It felt very cart before the horse, but I did a lot of research to find a great OB’s office. I had a wonderful experience in Florida with the doctors and nurses that guided me through my pregnancy with W. They were kind, fun, and honest. It was the kind of place where I could bring Millie to every appointment. It was special. I was lucky.

When I found an OB here I did lots of online research to look for any, “STAY AWAY FROM HERE” notes and was pleased that every review of the doctor I found was A+.

I went to this OB’s office last friday. I was about ten minutes early as I figured there would be paperwork to fill out. The woman at the front desk told me to have a seat, that I could begin to fill out my paperwork when it was 1pm. AKA when my appointment time was. So I sat in the hot pink lobby for ten minutes and began to pour sweat. A few minutes after one I was summoned back to the front desk and given a clip board with only three lines to fill out.

Twenty minutes after one a nurse stuck her head out of a side door and called my name.

{NOTE: I have zero issues about time. I have never known an OB’s office to run on schedule so no points were deducted for the time I was called back. I would consider that typical.}

I followed the nurse back to a room and she gestured to a chair instructing me to sit. She then heaved a big sigh, plonked a clipboard onto the exam table and started rattling off a series of questions:

NURSE: When was your last period?
Me: are you asking for my due date?
NURSE: Date. Of. Your. Last. Period.
Me: Hold on – I need to do some math so I can give you the correct date. I had an embryo transfer.
Me: Ok, to get the correct due date you need to use September 19th
NURSE: Is that the date of your last period?
Me: uh. Yes.

She then continued with asking me how many times I had been pregnant. I told her about my four pregnancies. She told me ectopic doesn’t count as a pregnancy and “what is a chemical?” She amended my answer to two pregnancies (including my current one).

It was at this point that I realized that the nurse had not once made eye contact with me.

The rest of the question and answer session went about as crappy as you can expect. A big sigh over my being single, another sigh when I told her my height (SERIOUSLY?!!).

I wanted to sob. I felt, for no explainable reason, ashamed.

She grabbed a gown from the cabinets in the room and told me to “get naked quickly” and “get on the exam table”.

Something about the way she said that terrified me. I honestly had a panic moment feeling like she was going to do something TO ME.

She left the room. I got undressed and gowned up. A few minutes later the OB knocked and came into the room.

He seemed fine. He was a fast talker, had LOTS of opinions about the amount of hormones that I was on. He wanted to know if I still had my ovaries because he just couldn’t imagine why I would be on estrogen. He took a moment to look at my chart and then began talking to me about genetic counseling. All of a sudden he was explaining amniocentesis and telling me miscarriage odds for such a procedure, “but if I wanted to be sure that the baby was ok it was the only way to really know”.

Another pause to look at my chart and then, “So I like to schedule C-Sections* a week before due dates. I’ll book you for before lunch so you don’t have to deal with traffic to get here…”

{* Because of the issues with W’s birth I expect to deliver Tartan via C-Section. I have no desire to try for a vaginal birth if that is going to put my or Tartan’s life in danger. My birth plan = I want a live, take home, baby. So I absolutely expect any OB to skip to the chase regarding the exit plan of this pregnancy, but I guess a little gentler discussion about this would have been welcome.}

Honestly at this point I zoned out. My brain was shutting down. My intuition was going into high gear. Not this doctor. Not this office. No. I can not.

He gave me a prescription for prenatal vitamins and a phone number to call if I wanted nuchal testing, but he doubted I would be able to get an appointment for a few months.

I got dressed and went out to the lobby. And then my world spun. The entire lobby was filled with cigarette smoke. I have no idea where it was coming from – but I could SEE it. The smell sent my nausea into overdrive. The doctor came out to the front desk and saw me going green and chuckled, “Oh Fridays are always bad with smoke here.”

I was 3 seconds away from a massive projectile vomit so I ran out of the office. I was sick the rest of the day and into Saturday. I could never go back.

But where was I supposed to go??

I spent the weekend doing research, asking local friends, reading reviews and comments on pregnancy sites and finally found a place that seemed ok. I called them first thing on Monday and the earliest appointment I could get was December 4th. Since I am seeing the clinic (for the final time – YIKES!) next week I feel ok about the wait. With the holiday this week I knew it was unlikely that I would be able to be seen sooner.

The good news is that since I made the appointment two Moms at W’s school have shared with me that they went to this practice and delivered at the hospital associated with it and they had nothing but good things to say.

The interesting hurdle is that since I won’t be seeing an OB until my 11th week that I might have a tricky time getting a nuchal scan scheduled in the window that I would need it. The OB’s office can’t write me a scrip for the scan until they see me and that might be pushing it. I have called my nurse at the fertility clinic to see if she is able to write such a scrip and we will see what advice she has.

I really hate how awful this experience has made me feel. I like to think that I am not hard to please when it comes to medical care. You don’t have to be Suzy Sunshine, you don’t need to be prompt, you don’t even need to be an expert in infertility – but I guess I do draw the line at kindness. I need that. I really do.

Hopefully this new office will be just the ticket.

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